___________

Margie is my beloved Gram's sister, and she's spent her life ranching and farming in the Northeast part of our state, including Hereford blood stock. Hence today's guest appearance by the bull on the right.

1 : I told a big, fat, whomping lie, and either it was so egregious someone with a Middle School education caught it, or a journalist who takes their responsibilities seriously called me out on it.

2 : This is really how I feel about the subject at hand, but I'm going to deny it now because I've managed to offend such a large percentage of my constituency that failing to do so will mean I won't get what I want.

So I came home from my business trip on Saturday. And after a long week of spending twenty hours on various planes over the course of five days, I was ready to be home.

I was sitting in front
of a family with two small children. One was about 4, the other about 2.
And they were the most ill-behaved children I've ever had the
displeasure of traveling with. The four year old (we'll call him Damien) spent the majority of the flight
bouncing from seat to seat, kicking the seats in front of him, pulling
himself up by the headrests on seats in front of him, and generally
being a nuisance. The 2 year old (we'll call her Rosemary)
partook of crying jags every 30 minutes or so, lasting about 15 minutes
each. As near as I could tell, they were precipitated by her being
forced to sit during takeoff and landing, by not being allowed to run
willy-nilly up and down the aisle of the aircraft, by the flight
attendant forcing her mother to prevent her from constantly pressing the
call button and other incidents of having her will thwarted.

Kids are going to be kids, and I'm in no way suggesting that families
with children should not be permitted to fly. Families are spread out,
and oftentimes the only way to establish and maintain relationships with
distant relatives is to fly. Nor do I get particular upset when little
people fuss during long flights (especially during take off and
landing). Sometimes that particular experience makes me want to cry,
too, and the genuine discomfort of not knowing how to clear your ears during altitude changes is really all the excuse a toddler needs.

No, my issue in this case is with the parents. If your kid is
behaving in such a way that their shenanigans negatively affect the
experience of every other person in their vicinity, and you do nothing -
well. Let's make no mistake, here. I have no obligation to tolerate
your kids' bad behavior, nor do I have any emotional investment to
reduce my irritation with them. So don't be surprised when I turn around in my seat and tell your charming son Damien to stop kicking my seat in my best SNCO voice.

So while I don't think children of ill-behaved parents should be banned from flying, I would support a seating layout which isolated the offending parents and their children to some sort of sound-proof dome, a la The Oatmeal's Movie Theater Layout. Can't control your demon spawn? INTO THE DOME, MOTHERFUCKER.

Falling Apart

My trip last week was pretty uneventful as these things go. I didn't miss any airplanes, my lodging reservations were all as planned, nobody lost my luggage. But dude - I am falling apart.

Over the course of the five day trip, I started to strongly suspect I have cracked a molar, my left knee became rubbery and kept attempting to bend the wrong way, and I developed some sort of weird muscular pain in my lower back. I'll have my awesome (but weird) dentist look at the molar when we get back from WorldCon. My back stopped hurting as soon as I slept in my own bed and resumed my normal exercise routine (I guess 20 hours on planes in five days will do that to you). My knee has improved every day since Friday - so I should be good to go for WorldCon. I'm going to try and avoid so much air travel in such a short period of time in the future, though.

Sacrilege

Last night The Smart Man, the Incomparable Anne, my Hot Mom, my Hot Daughter, my Hot Daughter's hetero life partner and I attended one of the first non-Broadway showings of The Book of Mormon at our local performing arts center. The traveling show debuted here in Denver, and the tickets were the hottest things in town.

ZOMGWTFBBQ. This show is so funny, and far more sacrilegious than I anticipated. The traveling company did a great job with it, and you just have to love any show that includes the word "fuck" so much in its book. Like Dogma, the show is highly offensive to religious people, but the actual POINT of the show was an affirmation of faith rather than the opposite. I guess some people just have no sense of humor about their religious belief.

Three Days

We're leaving for WorldCon on Wednesday evening, and I can't wait. Everything's basically ready to go, including my awesome manicure.

My blog circle, The UCF, lost our friend Wendy last year, and we've decided to hold a wake for her at WorldCon. Wendy was very fond of purple, and I decided to honor her memory by ensuring that purple will be my dominant color for her wake. It makes me happy to do so, and I think it would make her chuckle.

We're going to try and take some pictures and such, but I probably won't blog about it until we return. Because I'll be too busy impersonating Zoe from Firefly and generally looking fabulous in purple. FABULOUS.

Guilt runs in my family. We give it to each other, mostly, and we're great at passing it down generation over generation. You'd think we were Jewish, or something.

So I have a tendency to wallow in guilt for no apparent reason. I try to guard against it, as it serves no one, and provides no tangible benefit to me in terms of emotional health or managing my behavior. But often it sneaks up on me, and encourages me to ask myself what the fuck is wrong with me.

Take my trip this week. Since I'm traveling on business, I've been wearing make-up every day, and even though I use very high quality foundation, it makes me break out if I don't take it off in the evening (I know, right? WHO KNEW.). I've also stayed in a different hotel every night this week due to logistical requirements. In one hotel, the proprietors left an astringent wipe for "make-up removal" in the complementary toiletries, but everywhere else, there was only washcloths. White washcloths. Now we all know what happens to white washcloths when you use them to remove makeup. And here's the fucked up part: Every time I used a washcloth to remove my makeup, I felt guilty about staining their linen with my foundation and mascara.

Really, Janiece? Really? It's not like I had options - I've only ever stayed in one hotel where they provided a blue washcloth specifically for make-up removal, and the other hotels did not provide wipes. What was I supposed to do? And yet, I felt guilty that I was staining their washcloths. And then I felt bad that I felt guilty.

Seriously - sometimes I wonder how I manage to have a stable emotional life AT ALL.

It's Wednesday, so it must be Peoria

I'm on the road again this week, leaving tomorrow morning for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.* I'll be there for approximately 24 hours, then I'm flying to Illinois on Wednesday. I'll be there for approximately 24 hours, then I'm flying back to Massachusetts on Thursday. I'll be there approximately 36 hours, and then I'm flying home.

I know. I have a feeling this is not going to end well from a personal stress management perspective. So don't expect much in the way of updates here this week, unless it's a picture of me running through an airport with my hair on fire, the TSA in hot pursuit.

For my brothers and sisters in arms

These are this year's lap robes knitted in the colors of the five Armed Forces branches. They're destined for the Cheyenne, Wyoming VA hospital. While I try to knit lap robes every year for the VA with leftover yarn, every few years I like to do these robes which honor the five services. I haven't had as much time to knit this year as I have in years past, so I was happy to get these done in time for the upcoming chilly weather.

WorldCon, baby

The Smart Man and I are really looking forward to WorldCon. The schedule is now posted, and we're going over all the panels trying to decide which ones we want to attend. My costumes are also complete, and I've added all the elements to my Pinterest page in case anyone's interested.

I've decided to go ahead and dye the ends of my hair a vibrant purple for the occasion. I was originally going to dye the entire lower layer, but then it occurred to me - what happens if Global Dynamics decides that I need to leave for a customer engagement on September 6th, well before the dye has had time to wash out? I'd be fucked, that's what. So I'll have her dip-dye the last two or three inches, and if worse comes to worst I can just have the purple cut off. My employer is pretty progressive (especially for a defense contractor), but I don't think I need to push my luck that far.

___________*"The Commonwealth?" Really, Massachusetts? "State" is perfectly acceptable for the rest of us schlubs, but you have to a "Commonwealth." Whatever.

I was turned on to these guys by the amazing Random Michelle. They remind me a bit of Queen in the way their voices blend, although I'm not yet convinced that Nate Ruess has quite the vocal chops that Freddie Mercury enjoyed. We'll see how he shapes up.
In the meantime, I bought both their albums based on the strength of this one song.

I've been taking a self-paced training class at a local technical training center for the last month, and I'll typically take a little break half-way through each session to walk around the building in order to avoid DVT's and falling asleep. So yesterday I was strolling around and saw this bumper sticker on a parked vehicle:

Now, I believe in the idea of good and evil. Not as some weird third party, supernatural entity, but the idea that each of us as individuals has the capacity for both, and that the point of living is to foster the former and suppress the latter. Not because some supernatural being tells me to, but because it's right and ethical to do so.

I've studied the practices of religious people enough to know that prayer (or meditation, if you prefer) has intrinsic value to people who do it on a regular basis. From what I've read, the benefits can include lower stress, a calmness of mind, lower heart rate, and other things that can only be described as "good." In my quest to be a non-asshole Atheist, I try to understand the deep personal value people of faith place on prayer.

But this - this idea that "prayer" is the best defense against evil - this I don't get.

While realizing this is flippant, do these people think that if they just pray hard enough, their deity will come on down and smite the evil-doers? Do they think that praying will force the evil-doers to see the error of their ways and make changes for the better? Really, what does this mean?

From my perspective as an Atheist materialist, the best defense against evil is to stand up. Is your government suppressing a peaceful demonstration against tyranny? Stand up. Do you believe that an invading force needs to be resisted with all the assets at your disposal? Stand up. Do you believe that defending your neighbors against evil is the right thing to do? Stand up.

Most Americans don't find themselves in those situations. But that doesn't mean there are no opportunities to stand up. Take the Patriot Guard Riders, who stand up for the families of fallen veterans against the evil that is the Westboro Baptist Church and their ilk. Or The Innocence Project, who stand up for death row inmates by exonerating the innocent. Sadly, there's plenty of evil in this world, and plenty of chances to stand up, if we choose to do so.

I'm not saying that people of faith don't stand up when it's required. History is full of stories of their bravery, and in many cases, their faith (and their practice of prayer) gave them strength to do what was necessary. But to imply that prayer alone is what defends us from evil? No. People defend us from evil. People of courage and conviction. People who stand up.

One of my distractions when I was in Virginia last week was perusing the "on sale" section of the Fluevog website to ensure there was nothing there I couldn't live without. Which should probably fall under the heading of bad idea, since I'm SUPPOSED to be under a shoe, handbag and jewelry moratorium until I can get a few bills paid.

Silly human.

Here are my new Fluevogs, which I bought because I needed some black shoes that I could wear all day for several days in a row since my business trips tend to be longer these days. Shoes that didn't come from the Juniors section, I mean.*

OMGWTFBBQ. SO COMFY. With or without hose. And funky! Also: Almost 50% off! Go, me!

However, I felt guilty about buying them, so I've decided to finally admit the truth and declare that I cannot wear these fabulous 'vogs:

I've had them for almost two years, and I've worn them once. The issue is that I can no longer wear shoes where the lift is higher than three inches from ball to heel. So While I have some 4" heels in my shoe stable (hello, Michael Kors!), they also have a 1" platform to offset the lift. These, alas, do not, which means I end up with foot cramps and other discomforts. So I'm biting the bullet and selling them on eBay. If they sell, they'll pay for the new ones, and I figure I'll come out even. Which, I have to admit, gets around the moratorium nicely.

____________*Yes, I do realize that my shoe fetish is a bit snobbish. I'm okay with that.

Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-even more immoral

So Mitt decided on Paul Ryan for his running mate. Because evidently nothing says "My private industry experience will save the country from utter destruction at the hands of the browns and the wimmin" like selecting a running mate who's fed at the public trough his entire life. And the right is apparently completely oblivious to the cognitive dissonance inherent in this choice.

Of course there's always the possibility that they're completely aware of it, and simply don't give a crap because the far more important goal is pandering to those who a) have bought and paid for their politicians, or b) vote against their own interests as a matter of course rather than vote for the scary brown dude and all he represents. So there's that.

Really, it's a sickness

After returning from Virginia on Friday, I got back into my normal exercise routine on this weekend, which meant I ran six miles as soon as I got up on Sunday. And I liked it. If that's not a bona fide sign of the impending apocalypse, then I don't know what is.

Seriously, what is up with this? I have gone from someone who swore the only time she'd run anywhere is if she was being chased by ravaging hoards of giant squids to running six miles three times a week. When I have to skip a day due to circumstances (like business travel), I feel it, and don't like it. It's like I don't even know me anymore, but I think I better accept my new normal and stop being gobsmacked at my new-found physicality. I'm a runner. Word.

As usual, my timing is ghastly

The Parker Fieldhouse, where I go for my strength training and some cardio in the winter, is closed this week for maintenance. Not last week, when I was in Virginia, not next week, when I'll be in Massachusetts. I understand the main rec center is open for Fieldhouse users during this time, but I also understand it's terribly crowded. And we all know how much I LOVE CROWDS. Not. So I'll increase my cardio here at home and redouble my strengthening efforts when we return from WorldCon.

On the Road Again

I'm leaving this morning for points east on Global Dynamics business, and I'll return on Friday. And by "leaving this morning" I mean I preposted this because I got up at 3:15 a.m. in order to make a 6:15 a.m. flight. You're welcome.

I'll be getting a rental car this time, so hopefully won't have any more land navigation mishaps. Yeah, right.
I'm sure I'll be driving all over the state of Virginia trying to find
the hotel before it's all over. Because apparently that's how I roll.

I've decided to take my backpack this time instead of my fabulous raspberry bag - as much as I love the raspberry bag, I'll be gone a week, and the backpack is just easier on my back. Since I'm not meeting with a customer this time, I'm coming down on the side of comfort. What I need is a fabulous Coach patent leather backpack. With a computer compartment and enough room for my shit. You know - something functional rather than those twee backpacks they pretend actually serve a purpose. Are you listening, Coach?

Winter Vacation

I'll be taking the rest of the year off from my University studies. My department is tightening their belts and has decided that Tuition Assistance will be suspended for the rest of the calendar year, and I don't want to rearrange our budget to pay my tuition out of pocket. I'm thinking it's probably for the best in any case - I have a lot to learn right now, including technologies with which I'm unfamiliar, and my brain is becoming full. So instead of International Trade I'll be studying Next Generation 911.

Engineer, Heal Thyself

My arm is looking much better, although I'll certainly be wearing work attire with sleeves this week.

It's too early to tell if I'll need additional treatments at this point, but I certainly hope not. Note to self: Tattoos cost more than ten times as much to remove as to apply. And they look like ass between those two states.

Run Away! Run Away!

My last two runs (Friday and Sunday) were SIX WHOLE MILES. That's right - I ran six miles without stopping at about a thirteen minute pace. While that's slow as shit compared to everyone else, it's pretty damn good for someone who sucks so much at running she's outpaced by the local wiener dogs out on their daily walkies. My knees are apparently holding up under the strain, but my massage therapist tells me my hips are now pretty stiff. Great - something else to worry about. Why couldn't I have developed an interest in fitness when my body was young and strong rather than middle-aged and weak?

LALALA I Can't Hear You

As a matter of self-defense, I've started actively deleting my political Podcasts and skipping political articles in my daily reading. As I noted before, I'm liberal enough that if I decided to vote for Romney it would probably be indicative of a brain tumor rather than a considered political opinion, so I'm not sure why I need to drive up my blood pressure by listening to the candidates and their supporters lie like rugs. So, like my friend Dave* over on Facebook, it's time for me to start a policy of studious ignoring, "Lalala I can't hear you" style. Because I'm mature like that.

I've been getting a tattoo on my arm removed for the last year or so. This involves getting laser treatments every 6-8 weeks, and then waiting for my blood to carry the ink away so that my liver can process it out of my body. I've had eight treatments, but the last shadows of the ink were being stubborn, so yesterday my technician decided to try a CO2 laser treatment to shake the last of it loose, rather than the light laser we'd used previously.

Attractive, huh? This was taken about about two hours after the treatment. My technician warned me that it would look like this, so I wasn't surprised, but really - yuck. Most of the blood is just pinpoint bleeding that's seeping into the Neosporine that she applied post-treatment, but the Smart Man told me it looked like someone had taken a chainsaw to my arm. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt that much, but it sure looks as though it ought to. Also? CO2 treatments stink. Like burned flesh.

I'm a liberal. I'm a pretty liberal liberal, actually, holding the distinction of being the most liberal member of my family. I want a single payer healthcare system. I think university level education should be paid for by the government (with tougher entrance requirements). I oppose the death penalty on principle. I think social justice is important, and that our society fails at it miserably. I think gay people should be able to marry. Like Andy Borowitz, I think Romney's a douche.

See? LIBERAL.Liberal, liberal, liberal, that's me.

So when this whole "The Chick-Fil-A Corporation conducts themselves like bigoted asshats" came up, I was all, "It's about time other people saw it! I've been boycotting them for years!" And I'll continue to boycott them. Any group that donates money to the Family Research Council is NOT getting a single penny of my money, period. Exposing the political priorities of the corporation and encouraging consumers to "vote with their wallet" is the right thing to do. As Ken over at Popehat notes, expressing your beliefs in your behavior is as natural as breathing air, and a power we all possess.

But that doesn't give you license to be a dumbass, or propose solutions that are worse than the disease.

The Mayor of Boston made some seriously ridiculous comments about how Chick-Fil-A should "stay out of Boston," and those were bad enough. But now a NYC Council Speaker is also on the bash CFA bandwagon, and is rightfully being called to task for it.

Protip: "Equal protection under the law" applies to everyone, not just liberals, not just Democrats, not just conservatives, not just Republicans. EVERYONE. My fellow liberals' grandstanding only serves to feed the completely bogus trope that Christians are somehow a persecuted minority in this country, which they are most definitely not.

Following the law, even when it's inconvenient, even when it protects those whose views you find abhorrent, is the hallmark of our system. It must apply equally to everyone, or it means nothing.

So fellow liberals - just shut the fuck up about running CFA out of town on a rail. If they are accused and convicted of discrimination against gay people, or Muslim people, or Atheist people, THEN you can call for punitive measures. Because then they would be guilty of breaking the law. Right now the only thing they're guilty of is Level 10 Douchebaggery, which, last time I checked, was not a reason to discriminate against them, although it's an excellent reason to stop eating their chicken. Seriously - you're embarrassing me.

About Me

I am a Hot Chick living in Castle Rock, CO with my fabulous family. We have a rescue dog named "Jackson," and she's a Basenji/Shepherd mix. She's something of a head case, but we love her. I'm a U.S. Navy vet, and I currently work as an Enterprise Solutions Architect, specializing in VoIP and multimedia contact center design. I'm a Trustee for my local library, because LIBRARIES. I care about science, the U.S. Constitution and the military. I'm a tax and spend liberal in a largely red county, but I try not to be stabby about it. I like to color, I aspire to run faster than I do, and I donate knitted cold weather gear to various charities. Stupidity, cupidity and wanton assholery piss me off, and I'm more than a little soft when it comes to dogs and those who serve others. I blog about whatever I feel like. I use foul language, so if that sort of thing offends you, feel free to fuck off now - if I'm unwilling to clean up my language for my fabulous Great Auntie Margie, I'm unlikely to do so for you. Newcomers are welcome here, especially those who disagree with me, but trolling and spamming will be met with the Shovel of Doom™.